Fangs and Claws [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

Robb's words brought Catelyn no relief then. She was still tense, and would be until everything was discussed in the council and stable. They could not rely on the Tyrell forces, even if they seemed to have been convinced. Willas was more malleable, but Olenna was a difficult woman; almost impossible to convince. If Lenore came to their aid, their situation would improve. It was good that they would speak that morning, regardless.

"Leave them rest for now," Cat advised, "and discuss after lunch. I do presume they will wish to recover for a while, clear their minds." It was needed, if they wanted them as benevolent as possible. "But do speak to Lady Reyne." She might hold a grudge on the boy after what he had done, but it was necessary to mainatin at least a formal relationship between the two.

She moved away from the desk and paced to the window, leaning against the sill. She would have preferred a room with a balcony, but the view facing the hills was quieter than one towards the sea. "You may go," a softer murmur now, "and do come back to tell me what you have decided..." There would be a time when she would like to speak to Caireann as well, but that was not it. Her mind was still too clouded.

~***~

Lord Hetherspoon offered to lead her to the door, and the girl waited for him to rise. He moved quite well for a man his age; no doubt he was in the shape to fight as well. He was, at least, more mobile than she would ever be. Knowing how vulernable she was in spite of her youth was almost terrifying. It meant she would never be able to return the protection offered by Robb, if something unexpected occured.

She made a mental note to ask him to teach her the basics of swordfighting, one day, when he had the time. If he ever had time for her again.

He hadn't come to see her in the morning; Mina would have announced her, if so. Caireann feared she had managed to turn him cold, but the thought only pained her more. Affection was all she sought, and even despite her envy of Margaery and the way he had looked at her that night, she still wanted him near her, to at least show that he still wanted her the most, through a touch or perhaps a kiss.

Her gaze shot up again once Lord Hetherspoon approached, and she wrapped her arms around him to pull him into a warm embrace. "I promise I will come to see you again," she sighed. "I might be able to bring Lady Reyne even, when her confinement is over." It meant another four days, but she doubted the man was too impatient. He must have grown used to her absence.

She would turn away then, and step out the door to meet with her guard. Thom would have greeted her with kind eyes and a gentle smile; this one appeared tough and sullen. He almost pulled her through the hallway, not allowing and hesitations and stops along the way. In her room once more, Caireann found herself in the same heavy solitude.

~***~

Lord Vikary did not appear to be a lavish man, but Loras's attention was not particularly focused on him. He received the blade with a small smile on his face and gave it a few swings to weigh it. "Good," he agreed, before shifting his eyes up to meet Hill's. "If you're ready, you may begin." He did not have any armour shielding him, but he did not mind having his work done for him. Loras would position himself and attack once his opponent was prepared.

In the vicinity, Willas took a seat on a log and placed his cane on his lap. "He will lose," he mumbled almost to himself, although Jaime was near enough to hear. "He always loses when he thinks too much of himself." Especially now, that his opponent was someone he had taken interest in. Frankly, he did not know why the boy had wanted him to attend this spar; perhaps only to show himself off, as he always did. He never missed an opportunity to display his skills in combat.

"Hill is skilled, I've heard," Jaime agreed with a sigh and sat down next to him. He took a higher log, to be able to lift himself up with ease. Even so, Willas seemed to still top him. "But I've heard more about your brother. And I've seen him fight." He had not onced seen the bastard wield a sword, only heard him boasting about his skills and how he would defeat him without even trying.

"Are you comrades?"

He hesitated at the question; he had never considered it, in truth. His relationship with Hill was not a common subject between the two. "I suppose he likes Ser Loras more," he answered bluntly, to which the man only chuckled.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb knew it was still early. He would not wish to disturb them. Well, he did, but it would not be a fruitful endeavor. "I will send a page to them after lunch so they may set the time." Robb reassured her. He would try not to pressure more than necessary. He didn't want to be an uncourteous host, or come off that way.

That left Lenore and Caireann as unresolved issues. He has left Caireann the night before. Lenore he simply hadn't seen. "I will see Lady Reyne after her visit with Olenna, and see you when I have made a decision." He wasn't sure how quickly that would be done.

With that, Robb half-turned. He should say something but he knew not what. So he smiled again, "Thank you," and he turned to leave.

He would check for Caireann first but was informed that she was not there. So he assigned a couple of men to let him know when Caireann returned and when Olenna was done with Lenore. He then had a quick breakfast before he stepped out, barely tasting the pancakes in his haste to see the army now in the shadow of Lannisport.

And it was impressive.

Colorful and bright, the spirits were high as he moved through. Eventually he heard a fuss about Loras and the Vikary camp, but was unable to go see - his own page returned. "Your Grace," he spoke, "Lady Lannister was seen returning to her quarters."

The auburn King nodded his appreciation and left the oddity of Loras in the Vikary camp to the wayside, making his route for the castle and then through the throngs of people to reach Caireann's room with the day guard. He did not enter immediately as he had last night. She may not want to see him.

So, he knocked. "Caireann?" He likely needed to explain himself...figure out what had been in her head and in his own last night.

~***~

Tybalt returned the embrace he was given warmly, chuckled, though it was a bit sad, "Lenore will see me soon enough," whether she came to him or asked for him, "don't worry over her." He did that enough for everyone but could not show it. Otherwise she would worry and stress, try to fix it, though she could not. He had learned that it was better not to let her know.

He would look forward to seeing Caireann again, though, and Lenore when she was ready. He respected her need for solitude even if she could not accept his want of her company. It was the price of being her parent. The price of making sure she didn't cut him out. He knew she could.

She used to say it enough - that he wasn't her father, when she was young and foolish. She had apologized...but he never forgot.

He let Caireann go, frowning at the roughness of the guard, before he turned back into his room.

~***~

Agile and fast. It was what he could read of Loras from afar. He was, as well, but he had chosen a bastard sword. He would play as if that style was the norm and expected. Slower and more precise, and then when Loras thought he knew how Hill played - when Hill acted as if the sword's weight brought him down, he would turn it around.

Swing fast and hard.

And remind Loras that the sword wasn't the only danger.

"As you wish." He'd open with a rush, sword pointed down, and made a show of hefting it when in range to cut across the man's chest from left hip to right shoulder. He steeled himself for the clash of blades, and twisted his back foot enough to turn swiftly if Loras moved - make sure no counter would connect.

Regardless, he would try to turn his body, whether to avoid a strike or break a lock, and come back around again until he had established a pattern he could break and throw Loras off.


Lymond stood near Willas and Jaime, eavesdropping while watching. He knew Hill well enough to want to laugh at the game. Hill wasn't a strength fighter, but he knew how. Tygett's blood gave him the build for it, but he learned too much here to ever master it.

Still Lymond didn't break the game with a laugh. Did comment, "Loras is prettier than our Lady. I don't think he could stand it." Vain. Always vain.

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann did not get the chance to settle in well enough in her quarters before there was a knock on the door. Mina hadn't cleaned it, leaving it completely dishevelled, perhaps in her hurry of making the necessary preparations for the guests, but frankly she couldn't complain. The fire had been stroked, flames spreading warmth through the room and highlighting the blankets spread over the couch and the floor, once again luring her to curl up beneath them and sleep. Instead, she turned around to open the door and at the sound of Robb's voice, her stomach dropped.

The King stood before her with the blueness of his eyes clouded by worry and languor. She could read pain in his gaze, but could not make out the reason he was there, in truth. He hadn't come to see her earlier, so she presumed he wished to make clear what had happened the night before. "Forgive me," Caireann spoke quickly, before twirling on her heels to make room for him to step in and almost skipping towards the sofa. "I didn't... I am sorry for the mess." She pulled at the furs and tried to arrange them, chest heaving under the uneven beats of her heart.

It was not the clutter that concerned her as much as the obviousness that she had not slept well. She had turned and shifted in her sleep, nightmares flooding her mind like a storm. They always did when he was not around, when she could not feel the warmth of his body around her. The cold only reminded her she was alone. "I should have known you would come, I didn't know you... I didn't think you would..." Her hands worked quickly to arrange the pillows, cheeks reddening the more she listened to herself speak.

Pathetic. Idiotic. She still acted as though she saw him for the first time.

With a long sigh, Caireann stopped and straightened her back, arms holding a cusion tightly to her chest. Her eyes moved to his then, almost in defeat, and she swore she could hear the sound of her heart. "I've missed you." Honest. Simple. He deserved to know, at least, that she had not sent him away. It had been him to leave, by his own choice. She struggled to read something in his expression, a tinge of compassion or a hint of desire – those feelings that still burnt through her each time she looked into his eyes or heard his voice. And she waited.

~***~

Adryan Hill was not a weak fighter; he knew how to wield the sword in spite of its weight, and appeared to do it well enough for the beginning. Loras did not force himself over the line and tried to maintain his balance as he delivered his blows. Encumbered by the weight of his armour, he kept missing, but he did not stop trying. If his opponent was relatively slow in his movements so early, it meant he could tire him up as soon as he caught an idea of his style and basic manuvers. He only had to get used to his tactics.

He chose not to take risks from the very beginning, spending the very first moments analysing him. The man was growing more and more rampant, contrary to his predictions, and Loras found himself struggling to avoid his hits. He managed to hit him with the tip of his sword, but in a real battle it would do nothing more but scratch his armour. Now that there was none, it was much easier for him to jump back or to the side and twirl around the edge of the blade as though he were lighter than a feather. Quite possibly the most aggressive feather he had seen so far.

In the back, Willas could barely contain himself from smirking. When Loras was pushed back, he almost clapped, but refrained from doing so. He was his brother after all, even if he deserved a good defeat to wash away his pragmatism. "Look at him," he murmured to Vikary and Jaime. "He wants to jump in, but he's afraid. He can't read him," and in truth, in spite of his experience in battle, Willas could not accompish it either. The man based his movements on surprise and his blows seemed to weigh too much against Loras.

"He is tricking him," Jaime canted his head. "Faster and faster. He likes to play dirty."

"In real battles, nobody plays by the rules." Loras won easily in tournaments and duels, but he was not as steadfast when it came to unscripted combat. Once the common elements disappeared, he tried to integrate his own habits into his fights without trying to calculate his adversary's intentions beforehand. He was a skilled swordsman, nonetheless, but he was not made for the field just as Willas's cane was not made for climbing.

Jaime only shook his head, but did not hide his smirk as he watched them. Hill's ways only made him want to spar with him more. One day, he might be able to, although he doubted he would be allowed to make one step before being thrown to the ground. He did not seem like one who liked to take hits, not even from cripples. The bastard would take any chance to put a sword through bim in a real fight, whether or not it was honourable. "This man does not have limits." Perhaps he could ask Yularen to train with him first... A wiser choice than jumping into the mouth of the hungry lion.

 

[Lucyfer]

The door was opened for him, and the first words to slip Caireann’s lips were ones of apology. Robb took them in, and did not at all notice the mess of the room, even as she indicated it. He shook his head to dismiss that petty concern, shut the door behind himself as he stepped in, eyes following her. Like she was, Robb was trying to read her, to understand it all.

She seemed in a flustered panic of sorts, and Robb followed her as she went about, as she paused, putting a pillow between them. He frowned at it. It seemed as if she was still trying to hide from him, to add distance even as he was right there. Her words seemed contradictory to her actions. She missed him. She put a cushion between them. So, he did not reach out, but sighed, the defeat there.

Her words sounded sincere. He wanted to reach out to her, longed to make sure that they were still good, but the cushion remained in his sight, in his mind. So he wore defeat instead and spoke only.

“I missed you as well,” he told her honestly, “I don’t like sleeping without you,” he didn’t think he ever would like sleeping alone again. “I don’t understand what happened last night,” he admitted, “After the Tyrells arrived…you turned cold,” or that was how it felt to him. Perhaps if he explained how it seemed, it could be cleared up. “I thought you did not want me present when you took to the couch, and I still do not understand it.”

He was wholly ignorant of what he’d done wrong, unless it was Tybalt seeing her off, and not himself.

He would wait, though. Listen. When it was cleared up, or better understood, then he could tell her that he had talked with Catelyn – that she had not gotten terribly angry or upset with all of this.

~***~

Slow and steady. Precise, but always too precise, too easy to read. Lenore would have caught on, but Lenore couldn’t wield a sword to save her life, as Ser Hill well knew. He played Loras into getting comfortable, close, because he could dodge without doing much. At least, at the beginning. He tested it, gradually increasing his speed and letting the moves be a bit wilder, less predictable, and he watched as Loras fought to keep up, to catch up.

‘There.’

It was in his footwork that Loras was stumbling, not his swordplay. He was made for horseback, not to fight on the ground. Poor boy didn’t even know it, either. The Knight of the West pushed the advantage then, as he realized a sudden increase to his own pace would not allow Loras to keep up.

He stepped right into Loras’s bubble after a feint that the knight chased with his blade, taking it out of Hill’s way. He would step to the side and a bit around Loras, moving his blade, but the real attack was not there. His body turned with the momentum he carried, and the leg he hadn’t yet planted moved to hook at Loras’s ankle and sweep, to hopefully catch the knight as he planted his weight on it.

Then he’d lose his balance and fall forward. Ser Hill could plant his foot on the knight’s back, and put the sword at the back of his neck, if all went well.

If not, he’d figure out what to do with the tangle quick – he could think well enough on his feet.



Lord Vikary nodded as Jaime read into it, “Ser Hill’s too familiar with battle to think tournament and chivalry rules matter,” it was why he wasn’t known. He never competed in those tournaments. He’d lose them. He wouldn’t stick to the rules, because he saw no practicality to the rules. “You learn to fight if you’re an orphaned bastard.”

He had squired for Lymond before. Squired for a few, before becoming a knight and entering service of House Hetherspoon. He was never as bright eyed or naïve as Yularen. He grew up too fast for that. “He is Tygett’s son…,” murmured more to himself. It always reminded him. The bastard fought better than even him, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

He envied his skill. His ability to switch effortlessly to adjust to his opponent, to read them, even in a field. On a boat. With archers.

Yularen came rushing up, all but out of breath as he arrived, hands going to his knees. He had come to get Hill to let him know that Olenna was gone, but when he heard word of where Hill was, he booked it. He wanted to see this! “What the hell are you doing here, Yularen?”

“L-Lenore…sent me,” he breathed out, straightened up, “but it can wait,” of course it could, it wasn’t like Lenore was going to go anywhere.

He hoped.

 

[peritwinkle]

Robb did not approach her before he spoke. There was a break, heavy, as his eyes sought answers in her own, pained by a burden she could not read. Words left his lips then to crush the silence, and they stung her heart more than they should have. She had managed to hurt him once again, seep anxiety into his thoughts which he did not deserve to suffer. He was already hampered by his worries, and she had only made the situation worse with her childhood whimpering.

He demanded answers, and Caireann struggled to form them on her lips, but they did not wish to leave them. How could she tell him why she had been so cold to him, why she had pushed him away instead of soothing him after the long day? With her arms clutching the cushion, she let out a breath and bit her lips. "Last night," she began, "I saw the way you were looking at Lady Margaery, I thought..." her words trailed off for a moment, before she caught the courage to continue speaking. "I was left behind... I felt as though you were pushing me away," as though he were too embarrassed to be with her in front of the Tyrells.

Slowly, she placed the pillow down and moved around the couch, leaning against the backrest with her hands seizing the wooden casing. She tapped as she stood, nervously averting her gaze from his own. "I was being foolish," Caireann closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. When she opened them again, she caught his, "My mind was tired and overwrought. I never wanted you to leave... You shouldn't have." At least Grey Wind could have kept her company, but the night spent alone had been enough to realise her mistake.

A good Queen did not allow herself to be consumed by envy and fear, and yet she had let those feelings hurt both herself and him.

Cheeks now burning with timidity, Caireann struggled to decipher the expression etched on his face. A part of her wanted to curl into his arms and show him she truly had missed his presence; the other still wanted to keep her distance and allow him to make a move if he forgave her for her obtusity. In spite of the voice that muddled her mind, she did approach then, and placed a trembling hand on his chest to blindly adjust an untied lace. "I am still afraid she might prove to be better in your eyes," better than her, for she was more cunning, more confident than she would ever be. And above all, she could bring him more than just love – a promise of victory.

~***~

It was getting more and more difficult for Loras to predict Hill's movements, as he struggled to stay on his feet against the heavy blows. He was growing faster than expected, while he was merely tiring himself beneath the heavy steel. Droplets of sweat rolled over his temples and his hair struck to his forehead in glistening curls. He forced himself to find his balance once again, but the more he shifted, the more difficult it became to stand up to him.

Then he twirled and turned with his leg in the air, using the weight of his heavy sword to his advantage. With his knee bent into a hook, he slid it beneath his own and Loras bit the ground with a loud thump before he could try to jump away. His head thrusted painfully against the cold mud and his sword dropped too far away for him to reach it and lift himself up. The tip of Hill's blade found his back and it lingered there, blocking his movements.

Defeat tasted sour.

Willas stood up as Loras fell, and Jaime's lips spread into a wide smile. He did not approach his brother, but instead waited for the confirmation that he had been, indeed, defeated. "A proper knight," he heard Jaime mumbling, but he did not give it any importance. A part of his own pride had been touched by it, even if he had wanted to see his brother biting the ground for so long. He was still angered that the lion had managed to put him down.

Loras lifted his hand to acknowledge Hill's victory, lips pursed to abstain himself from making a remark. "You're quite good," he sighed and spit dust. "Though you could improve on your hits... You land them too heavily..." No, he only wanted to try to prove himself above him. He was good, indeed, but it only made the man more interesting in his eyes. Definitely a better prey to chase than any other opponent he'd had. He turned his head then, to look up at him, a thread of blood dripping from his nose, and murmured, "What else can you do with those hands?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Apparently it was only a glance to Margaery. Robb was immediately embarrassed, guilty, and frustrated at that. One look, and Caireann thought it over. He did know the look that she meant, it was hard not to observe her as Lady Margaery curtsied low. His eyes had moved to follow her face, and sunk lower as her jewelry glistened, and then took in the sight of what her jewelry highlighted without much shame at all. Of course, it was imprudent on his part, but he had not thought beyond it.

Margaery did not linger in his mind.

She was being foolish, but he wouldn’t say that. No, he’d reassure her, and hope that she didn’t start to think he could be so easily swayed in the future…because he didn’t think he could forever stop his eyes from wandering. “Caireann…,” he sighed as she approached and tried to fix a lace. He didn’t let her, he wrapped his arms immediately around her and kissed the top of her head, held her tight to him.

“I am sorry that I looked imprudently at Margaery,” he did not explain himself. He had done so, and that deserved an apology for worrying Caireann. “But she did not linger in my mind after that. She does not have my heart – you do,” he said as he kept her in the embrace. It was all over this…just a look.

He supposed he would have been paranoid, too, if she had looked long at Willas or shown him too much affection. He knew Caireann was generally kind and generous. He would have to weigh that into his considerations with her actions with Willas, who according to his mother was still interested in her. He knew that she would be nice to him. There was no reason not to be…and he knew he would worry. He would have to make sure he did not overreact like this.

“I love you, Caireann,” he reminded as he slowly pulled from the embrace, but did not pull away. His hands moved to her upper arms, keeping her near, “I cannot say I won’t look at others…I wish that I could promise it, but I would break that promise.” He knew that. He’d already done so, and there would be other days where women were dressed provocatively around him, and he would look…, “But they don’t haunt me at night, as you did, when I slept alone. I didn’t miss Margaery.”

He missed her. Caireann.

~***~

Hill’s bloodlust faded with his foot on Loras’s back, the defeat clear, but he waited for the signal. Ignored how Willas rose, though Lymond’s laugh echoed in his ears. The sound of his pride in Hill was always lovely for the knight to hear. He ignored Ser Loras as he tried to offer advice – he was the loser. He removed his foot and walked around him, offered him a hand up.

“This,” he answered. It could bring the knight back to his feet, at least.

Lymond moved to collect the swords then, and Hill held his out as Lymond passed. Again, his shoulder was clapped by the other lion, and a smile was shared with Hill, “Glad you didn’t fuck that up for us,” Hill just smirked and Lymond passed on to put the swords up.

Yularen just looked disappointed. He had missed most of the fight. He was glad Hill won, but…he never got to see Hill actually fight. And Tybalt told him not to spar with Hill – something about Hill not knowing how to train other people. He just knew how to put them in the dirt. Again. And again. And again.

Hill was made for violence, not peace.

 

[peritwinkle]

There had not been a moment since the past night when Caireann did not regret her foolishness. Guilt burnt through her and painfully twisted her heart as he pulled her closer to kiss her. She knew what she had done to him - made him doubt himself for a mistake that had been hers, not his. His eyes had wondered, for he was a man, and it was expected of him to be attracted to beauty. She knew she would not forever be the only one on his mind.

He would waver, but she knew she never could.

Even then, as he promised to love her, he admitted he could not control it all, and she understood. It was within his nature to admire, but within hers to doubt. With her palms pressed to his chest, she tried to find the words to deny it all. "There is nothing to apologise for," she whispered, eyes hesitantly finding his. "It was my fault... My mistake for doubting you," and yet she still couldn't refrain from overthinking. The scene still lingered in her mind, and threatened to linger for a long while.

"I couldn't sleep either," the girl admitted with a sigh. "My dreams were too vivid. I couldn't wash away the thought of you, as much as I tried... I kept hoping you would come back. I considered coming to see you, but I couldn't." She had been afraid to disturb him that way. It had been a long day for both of them, and he deserved to rest the most.

Caireann's hands trailed up to his neck, brushed over his jaw and cupped his cheeks. With a long lean, she took his lips with hers into a kiss, if he allowed, and let her fingers tangle between his auburn curls. She wouldn't deepen it, and instead break away to once again catch his gaze, still pained by worry and pendency. "I do love you, sincerely, with all of my heart... I am just too afraid to lose you." Too afraid to acknowledge that he still could not belong to her until they were united before the Gods.

~***~

Loras struggled to lift himself up under the weight of his armour, which seemed to have increased with his fall. Lymond Vikary gathered the swords from the ground, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he did so, but the knight could barely contain his irritation. 'Maybe you can find my pride there, too.' He wanted to turn around and blow Hill's nose away, but he didn't like the thought of ruining such a pretty face.

Instead, he stepped back and propped his arms on his knees to catch his breath. Then, straightening his back, he once again found the gaze of the golden bastard and displayed a weary smirk. "I was just tired after the road... You should see me when I'm in shape... I can..." His words trailed off as he wiped the blood dripping into his mouth. "Tomorrow. I'll put you down tomorrow."

In the back, Jaime stood up and clapped slowly, before limping over to Hill to pat his back. "Well done, Lady Hill. Though you do have a lot to learn from Ser Loras here."

The boy looked up at him and gritted his teeth, but maintained the amused expression on his face. "I am sure you would do better if you could walk, Ser Jaime." Roses had thorns, and they bit when touched indecently. He did not mind the banter, but his vanity had been hit right then, and he almost wanted to vanish into the ground. Willas had seen it too, and considering how his brother doubted him, he must have had a good time convincing himself of his arrogance.

"You are a seasoned warrior, Ser," the Lord rose as he spoke and walked over to them. "I am sure your Lady will be pleased to hear you have defeated The Knight of Flowers." He intended to meet her himself, but he would wait until the council. he doubted that Robb Stark would keep her locked up during such an important meeting. "You have my appreciation," if it valued anything. He had been a fighter himself, once.

Willas turned away then, leaning against his cane, and stepped over to one of the guards that awaited in the close distance. "Tell Lord Stark that I wish to speak to him today, if he pleases," then to Loras, "If you don't mind, I will see myself off."

'Yes. Before he breaks by legs too. Then I will be a cripple like you.' "You may," the knight mumbled, licking the blood from his lips. "Careful with the cane."

"Careful with your sword," he stung back.

 

[Lucyfer]

Trust.

There was much trust to be worked on between the two of them, it sounded like, and Robb could not fault her. He was willing to give up a vow of marriage to another woman so easily, for Caireann – how could she be certain he wouldn’t give her up for another woman? He would not, though. He intended to be steadfast and honor the words he gave to Caireann. He would have to prove it to her. He would have to work on not looking, or at least, making it clear he did love her even if his eyes betrayed his wishes not to look at others. He had to find ways to make her be reassured that his intentions with her were pure.

He let her kiss him then, after she spoke of her dreams and wanting to go see him. He would not have been there, but with his mother. It was not a deep kiss, but a reassuring one, and he loved the feeling of her fingers tangled into his hair. He tilted his head down as she broke away, spoke again. “I am sorry to have given you reason to doubt me,” he had to apologize for that, even if she said there was no reason.

There was, or she would not doubt him. “I love you as well, Caireann. I do not plan to leave you,” he said, smiling slightly, “I went to talk to my mother about us,” all that happened, but about them, “She did not strongly oppose it. I believe she is willing to give us a chance,” perhaps that would help her with her doubt. He was serious enough to approach his mother about it, to tell her, and let her know that he was serious.

His hands moved to encircle her waist, a light hold as they met at the small of her back, and he waited to see how she felt about him going to his mother with the news.

~***~

Hill arched an eyebrow at the boast of Loras, that tomorrow he would manage it, “You’ll need more rest than that after sparring with me today. Give yourself some time to build your skill back up from the road,” then he’d put him down again, quicker, just to amuse himself. He wouldn’t play around now that he knew Loras’s style and imagined he’d be able to move in quicker to bring him down.

His eyes lifted as Jaime clapped, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was a nice stroke to the ego to put down the knight and be rewarded with Vikary’s words and Jaime’s clap. Even if it came with a derisive comment. He didn’t care.

Ser Hill let his smile warm under Willas’s comment, “Thank you, Lord Willas. Lady Reyne is often pleased when I don’t lose,” and he rarely lost. If he did, he wouldn’t be in his position. Lenore Reyne had recognized his talent early on, and so called him to her side early on, even when he still thought she was a mere Hetherspoon.

How wrong he’d been.

The Tyrells barbed each other, and Hill hoped that guard would deliver the message to Lord Stark. If Willas thought that he was going to do it, he would be woefully disappointed. He motioned for Jaime to follow as he approached Yularen, “I take it Lenore is done with Olenna.”

“Yes,” Yularen said.

“And you left her without a guard.”

“…also yes.”

Hill swatted the side of Yularen’s head, hard enough to hurt, but no more, and walked off to go back to Lenore.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was still doubt in Robb's voice, and in that moment, Caireann was willing to do anything it took to see him happy again. She knew she had made a mistake by questioning his love and loyalty, and now she ought to prove that she still trusted him. He intended to marry her, after all, and was willing to forsake his vows to the Freys for her sake. His curious glances will sting, but they wouldn't be enough to quench her feelings for him.

It was then that he brought up the subject of his mother and marriage, and Caireann's heart jolted in her chest. "Is she?" the girl mumured softly, and drew in closer with his embrace. Her arms pulled him to her and she let out a giggle of pure happiness. "We are to be wed... I am to marry Robb Stark, the King in the North... Do you know what that means?"

That they would live their lives together, as King and Queen; that they would learn to understand and support eachother through the hardest of times. For once, she felt hopeful that Lady Stark might grow to love her one day, even if it had been difficult for her to accept her son's reckless decision. With tme, she would prove herself worthy of her place, though, she knew.

As she leaned up to place a kiss on his forehead, there was a knock on the door, and a rugged voice disturbed their solitude. The man did not step inside, but spoke from the corridor. "King Stark," the guard started, coughed, then resumed his speech. "Lord Willas Tyrell wishes to address you, when you please... If you have the time, he says."

Her happiness was not bound to last for longer, it seemed, for when her eyes found his again, they were almost bleak again. "Go," Caireann took in a deep breath. "Go, quickly, and come back to me as soon as you can tonight." She did not wish to see him leave, but considering the new arrivals, it would only be expected of his presence to be requested.

~***~

Loras did not wish to acknowledge the fact that he would not be able to make Hill bite the ground. He was strong, stronger than many he'd fought, but it was rare that someone with such lack of discipline managed to defeat him. He had cheated by shifting his style and delivering his blows so unevenly; it had not been a honourable way to win a fight, but there they were.

"If you aren't prepared to face me again, I will wait for you," he bit his lip and moved to sit on one of the empty logs, but decided against it. He did not wish to look any weaker.

"I do believe you ought to rest, Ser Loras," Jaime sighed as he approached, when his line of thought was interrupted by the argument between Hill and the Hetherspoon. He had not given it a good thought, but Lenore was dangerous if left alone. He wanted to smack Yularen over his head as well, only for the stupidity of not leaving a guard at least outside her door.

He turned around then, and followed the path through the camp and up towards the castle. It felt easier now, but only until he reached the hill and was required to rely on his arms. "Don't leave me behind with this idiot," Jaime shouted after Hill, and Loras came running quickly behind, uncertain if the insult had been addressed to him or Yularen.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb was delighted to see the way that Caireann’s eyes lit up when he mentioned his conversation with Catelyn. He gave a quiet nod to her question, and let the smile bloom upon his lips as she continued, the realization starting to dawn on her as to what it could mean. The reality of their future was close at hands. Her giggle was a treat, as was her new closeness. The sound was a delight to hear.

Tyrion had to agree.

They had to win the war.

Then, he could truly be with her, happily. As she kissed his forehead, he answered her query, “Yes, I know what it means, Caireann Stark,” he teased her, before his attention was taken by the knock on the door, and the smile faltered. Business. Willas. ‘Is Lenore still with Olenna, then?’ Possibly. Well, he needed to see Willas…he would go to see him.

“Thank you,” Robb called out to the guard, and heard his steps fade off in the distance. He let out a sigh, and slowly his hands unlocked from behind her, and he stepped back, “I will return when I can, but I will need to see Lady Olenna Tyrell today, as well,” he told her. She spoke of tonight, and that was likely when he would be able to come to her side again, “As well as Lady Reyne…,” he was looking forward to that the least.

He inclined his head to her, “Please, have a good afternoon,” he said to her then, smiled, “my queen,” before he turned to leave to go find Willas Tyrell. He had the time.

~***~

‘Boy I will wreck you.’ Hill wanted to tell Loras as he suggested he was not ready, but he was more worried that Lenore decided to test her newfound freedom. Sure, she hadn’t with Jaime, but he was 100% certain that was because she was worried about Jaime being left alone. On her own…she might push her luck. ‘Might?’ Would. What was he even thinking. What was Yularen thinking?

He was furious with Yularen in truth, but wouldn’t show it. The boy went to get him, as he had orders to do – he was sleep deprived. He wasn’t thinking straight. Still, Hill missed Clifton all the more for it.

And Yularen followed, of course. With Jaime. And Loras. Why Loras followed, Hill didn’t know, and didn’t care.

Of course, as Hill reached the castle, and went to the spiral staircase where Lenore’s room was, he found here there on the stairs, book open, seeming only too pleased with her new seat. Hill glared down at her, and she smiled up too sweetly at him. “Up. Now.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Was she trying to get in more trouble?

Why was he asking that stupid question? No, she thought she wouldn’t get caught. She probably heard his steps, and didn’t move on purpose. She hid from others around the winding staircase, the wall protecting her from sight.

“Why?”

“I will carry you.”

Enough of a threat. Enough of an embarrassment. And he left no room for argument. She rose, but still seemed smug as she snapped the book shut, too loudly, and turned to retreat to her prison.

 

[peritwinkle]

Willas's lips were burning from his biting as he paced around his room with his hands in the pockets of his coat. The weather was warmer now, humid before the rain, but the flower embroidery was the quivalent of a Stark's fur cape. He needed to represent his House through his appearance as much as speech. The night before, he had been frigid and sullen, disrespectful almost, and he knew he needed to make up for his slip. He would blame fatigue after the long road if asked, although he sensed it had been more than that, for it still affected him to this moment.

And above all, he thought of Caireann Lannister. He had only seen her then, in the dim light of the moon, and his eyes still refused to abandon the sight of her. In the darkness, her features had been faded, and his mind now melted them together, rendering him unable to paint her portrait in his head. He had planned to introduce himself that morning if she allowed, but she had not been present for breakfast.

And even if he spoke to her thad day what would he say? He did not know whether the girl had grown attached to her captors or if she still missed her family, though it was not a subject he wanted to bring up. It was known that the girl was as loved by her kin as her father, Lord Tyrion, in spite of their apparent intelligence and generosity. He had heard many rumours about her, though, and he was curious to unveil their genuinity by himself.

Until then, he had one more stranger to address.

Steps echoed through the halls, announcing the return of his guard, only this one they were accompanied by another pair - heavier and slower. The closer they came, the louder Willas could feel his thoughts growing, and he made his way over to the door to open it before them. The worry etched on his face was quickly replaced with a formal smile that wore off faster than it appeared. He instead resorted to inclining his head respectfully. "Your Grace," and he would move his cane over the threshold to step outside.

~***~

By the time they reached the castle, Jaime's breath was scarce and dry. He fought to keep his lips pursed as he limped and skipped over the pebbles in an effort to get to their quarters as quickly as possible. He did not look behind to see who was following them, only knew that Yularen for sure would be interested in seeing if he was to experience Hill's combat skills on his own skin that day or not. Loras – he could sense him, smell the floral scent that floated five feet around him, even in solid steel armour.

The hallway outside their door was seemingly empty, but a bush of red hair did pop from its concealment in the staircase. Of course, Lenore had not left her confinement, but chosen the way of defiance to simply push Hill's nerves over the edge and show their vulnerability in front of her. She could have gone somewhere else if she pleased, but had chosen to simply sit there and wait for them to come, appearing as innocent as Lenore Reyne had ever been.

"You are a pain," Jaime groaned through his breaths as Hill urged her back into the room. He turned his head and glanced back to check if anyone had seen the scene, and noticed that the Daisy was gone. "If anyone had seen you, all of us would be in trouble." She would most likely have her confinement prolonged if she wasn't sent back into a cell. And all of that merely for her dreadful pride.

He heard voices behind, and he hurried into the room and closed the door behind them. Throwing the crutches on the floor, Jaime let himself fall on the bed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "On another note," he started, "Hill beat the hell out of the Daisy." It had been a sight to see, and it was a pity she had not been there to witness it. "Too bad Yularen arrived too late." He shot a striking glare at the boy before turning on his side. He should not have been there at all.

 

[Lucyfer]

When Robb arrived before Lord Tyrell, it seemed that some of the man’s informality had faded. He was more formal then, and opened the door before Robb knocked. He managed to smile as he heard the lord’s greetings. “Lord Tyrell,” he returned, and noted the man stepped out.

He did not wish to stay there, then.

“I am glad you were willing to meet with me so soon. I know that your grandmother has gone already to meet with Lady Reyne,” they might not be on the best of terms, but they were still allies, and Robb knew he should take those meetings seriously, and treat them as such. It was a good step that Olenna had gone already to meet with Lady Reyne. It was good that Willas wanted to meet with him so early, too.

“Shall we adjourn to a formal meeting chamber, or would you prefer to walk?” He would not question the man’s ability. He could walk, with a cane, and did not appear in great pain. He hid it well, or it had long since faded. He would adhere to whatever it was Lord Tyrell wished, though. He was the one asking Lord Tyrell to join – he should keep him comfortable and show he was willing to assist him, as well.

Even in these small things and small decisions.

Especially since he would not let him marry Caireann, if it was not Caireann’s wish.

~***~

Lenore smirked though she kept her back to Jaime as she entered the room, hearing his complaint. Yes, she was. She did not like to make things easy, and she wanted it well known she still despised her confinement. “No one would see me, Ser,” obviously, no one did, or they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Lenore sat down on her bed, placing her book in her lap as Ser Hill stalked after them, and Yularen followed closely behind, anxious. “Lenore! Why did you—” Hill held up a hand.

“Yularen, go to bed. You’ll be lucky if I don’t tell Tybalt about this.” Yularen left, under Jaime’s glare, after the news that Ser Hill had beaten Loras was broken.

Before Hill could try to lecture Lenore, she spoke, “Congratulations on defeating Ser Loras,” she said, genuinely glad. It took some of the fuss out of Hill.

Not all, “Thank you,” he said, “Now, do I need to hire more guards for you? I will,” he added. There was a guard that he trusted among the Vikary, the one who went with Lenore on her trip to Casterly.

“No. You know if I really wanted out I’d put you or Yularen to sleep and sneak out.”

It didn’t appease Hill, “You don’t understand. You are to stay here. If Robb caught wind—”

“He’d confine me for longer, I’m sure.”

“Is that what you want?” Hill snapped, and Lenore recoiled at the raised voice. The glare. He was more upset than she expected.

 

[peritwinkle]

From his gestures to the way he spoke, Robb Stark was without a doubt as regal as a King could be. Willas couldn't tell if the formality was meant to make a good first impression or if it was his way of being, although he doubted someone this young did not adhere to a more casual demeanor. Even Margaery had resorted to being more relaxed that morning, but he couldn't say he did not enjoy the slight frigidity. He did not know the man, after all.

"We should walk, if you do not mind," Willas nodded, making his way around him. He tried not to rely much on the cane, but his leg was throbbing from his earlier effort. The road had made him weary; it was what happened each time he rode for too long. "Moving helps me... focus, when I speak," and assured him that he did not sit too close to him.

He kept silent for a while, as they made their way out of the quiet corridor and into the more lively areas. He did not enjoy speaking when the walls could listen, even if he did not intend to sneak anything confidential into the conversation. He had imagined his grandmother would want him to converse with his possible ally before the Alliance, and he wouldn't refuse her.

"Do forgive me for my attitude last night," he started. "After the road, I do imagine I was not the only one who needed to rest." Even then, he still felt the effects of fatigue; hopefully, the council wouldn't take place that evening. "This town, I haven't seen much of, but I did enjoy the castle," cold, but vivid, "and I had the honour of meeting some of your... followers. Seasoned warriors, as I've seen. Men of wit and charm," especially the Westerners.

In truth, anyone who managed to put Loras in his place pleased him.

A sigh left his lips, hesitant, and he turned his head then to face Robb. "But I did not see Lady Lannister this morning. I would have been interested to speak to her... She is indeed as fair as I was told." Willas smiled, but there was still a sour taste on his lips which he did not seem to be able to quench. If his ears still worked properly, he had already heard rumours he deeply doubted.

~***~

Hill did not care for his victory against Ser Daisy anymore; instead, he pursued the subject of Lenore's defiance, fuming as he spoke. Jaime was not pleased with what had happened either, but it was only expected of her to do such stupid things. Sometimes, she reminded him of Caireann in her recklessness, although she did it for the sake of irritating others rather than for her own sake.

"If my father doesn't chop your head off, your arrogance will do the job for him," Jaime sighed and glanced over at the two. "You are willing to provoke those around you, but not to endure what follows as consequence." She had acted and spoken freely in front of Robb Stark the day she executed Karstark, then complaied about her confinement in the dungeons.

In truth, he had not completely lost his pride himself, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut around those who waited for a reason to make his life more miserable. If Robb had taken him prisoner that night after the battle and not the Reyne, Caireann would have been the only one to keep him from slicing a finger or a leg. Thankfully, his captor only dug into his nerves and dignity.

"You are needed at the council, Lenore," the man rolled his eyes. "Frankly, little do I care about it, but I do want to see you out of here as soon as possible," before the woman lost her mind completely. Even in relative freedom, he did not doubt the possibility of her sneaking poison in a drink or exercised her combat skills on an unsuspecting spoon.

 

[Lucyfer]

Robb Stark walked alongside Willas Tyrell, and he let the other man set the pace, walking at his side, and no faster. They left the quiet areas for the louder ones, and that was when the man began to speak. His first words were an apology, which Robb would be remiss to deny, “It is accepted, Lord Tyrell. Travel makes us all weary and not at our best,” he answered him, smiling slightly.

Willas did not seem that bad, at first. He spoke of some of those he had met already, and Robb wondered who had left the impression on Willas. Wondered if it truly was a good one, or if he was just flattering. Robb wanted to believe, but he knew how the Tyrells could be from rumor. At least Willas did not seem as some of the others.

He appeared more reserved. It made him easier to talk with.

Of course, he spoke of Caireann. “Lady Caireann was visiting with Lord Hetherspoon this morning,” Robb offered, “She is often around, but if you would like to see her, I can speak with her and arrange a formal meeting, as well.” He was not to get in the way, he knew that. If Caireann liked him better, he was not to get in the way, and he should not deny Lord Tyrell, either. For the sake of the alliance.

Yet, Robb knew his words came out stiff. Through a jaw he barely managed not to clench down on the words. He did not like that Willas spoke of her as fair, even if she was. He did not like knowing that the man also wished to be with Caireann and might try to ruin what he had with her.

~***~

‘Probably.’ Lenore wouldn’t argue that her pride might be the death of her, if not Tywin or the sea. Though, it wasn’t the option she’d be pleased with, if she got to pick her own death. Which, no one ever did, unless they chose suicide…and Lenore did not think that she ever would. “I am enduring it,” she snapped at Jaime, “I don’t have to like it to endure it.”

What she wasn’t enduring was chains. That’s why she’d gotten out of those and bloodied her wrists for it. She barely endured the cell. She was barely enduring this room at times. “I’m barred from the Council, Ser, indefinitely,” she reminded him. When her stay in this room ended, it did not mean she was free to go to the Council.

There was no date to that set. Hill went to take a seat, sighing, “Robb won’t be letting you on it soon if he hears of your antics.”

Lenore rolled her eyes, “I doubt he’ll let me on it soon regardless. You’re easier to deal with,” not a lie, and Hill took the compliment with a smirk. “So, you did best Ser Loras?”

“I made him think I fought as a brute.” He had relaxed a bit. Jaime’s interruption and her turn on him seemed to do that. The compliment. Though he knew that Robb needed her back on the council. He spoke Lenore’s opinion, but he was not nearly as good with words as she was.

Lenore smiled, “I’m glad you still remember those tricks.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Starks were men of the North. Robb did not appear to try to hide his coldness in front of him, and spoke with his jaw almost clenched when it came to the subject of Lady Lannister. He would speak to her, but he was seemingly not particularly pleased about it. Willas wanted to ask if he had said something wrong, but decided against it. Still, it interested him to know more, and so he would look away from his sudden disdain.

"Lord Hetherspoon," he sighed, and stopped for moment before resuming his walk. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I thought the girl was a prisoner." Tyrells were known for their generosity, yet he had been taken aback by her freedom. He would not have expected a hostage to spend her mornings chatting with a great Lord of the Alliance, pretty or not.

He shook his head then, "Regardless," and averted his eyes back to the ground. "I do expect that after a well deserved repose we will be gathering the council. I do not find it necessary to waste time with somptuous meals and relishes if there will not be an alliance between our armies." He had all the intentions to join them, but he knew his grandmother likely still had arguments against it. "Tomorrow morning, if it isn't too early."

In the end, Willas only wanted to get it over with. He knew they had not traveled so far only to refuse him, but he could not be certain. Margaery had already gotten her eyes on the King in the North, and she was skilled in toying with Lady Olenna's mind the way she pleased. She was a sweet girl, and no wonder Robb Stark would be smitten. An agnation with them would be far more powerful than one with the Freys.

~***~

Lenore was as intrigued as she should be about his statement, and yet did not seem to come with a proper argument. All he heard was her pride speaking, only showing how it had managed to muddle her mind and cloud her thoughs. Perhaps that even in death, she would try to find a way to kill Tywin. A way to defy orders, to show that she was stronger simply because she was the only living Reyne.

No comment parted Jaime's lips, and instead he listened to the sudden change in subject, which he very much appreciated. Between her and the bastard had formed a connexion foreign to him; it would have been heartwarming, had he not known the two of them. They were anything but endearing, especially considering what Hill had done to the poor boy.

He made a mental note not to practise swordfighting with him until his leg fully healed.

"A cheater," Jaime chuckled, "at least in Ser Daisy's eyes. He put him to the ground with only a few moves. The poor boy was not even allowed to hit him." Only weak, superficial blows, but nothing more. Embarrassing, truly, given his reputation as a great duelist. "Next time I believe it will be on a horse... Jousting isn't your thing, is it, Hill?"

He did not imagine it was. The man fought like a brute, not like a disciplined warrior. His skills had been without a doubt achieved in battle. Being part of nobility, Loras had grown under the eyes of a teacher and spent years training to become what he was. Jaime, on the other side, had managed to lose everything he had built in all those years with the swing of a wooden mast.

Pity.

 

[Lucyfer]

Lord Willas spoke and asked questions, only to shake his head and dismiss them. Robb would have explained the odd situation of Caireann. Prisoner, yes, but an innocent as well. She did not deserve the harsh treatment of one like Jaime Lannister, and even his imprisonment was light. He was not currently in chains, though Robb suspected that was more because of his injuries than because of any want of him out of chains.

At least, he hoped so.

When Jaime Lannister got his strength back, he could be a threat to them all if left out of chains -saved Lady Reyne or not. “Of course, Lord Tyrell. I was hoping it would be tomorrow evening, but if your host prefers the morning, I will see about arranging it.” They were used to evening meetings, but Robb could get his men and women up for a meeting in the morning as well.

Have to make sure they all ate so they wouldn’t be grouchy.

That gave him little time to speak with Lenore and decide if she would be there or not. “We have no desire to waste time with this, either,” he added. They hoped for an Alliance, but it was not in stone yet. “Is there anything that you need to know, prior to the larger council meeting?” Before the noise of several voices spoke out at once.

~***~

Lenore’s grin only widened as Jaime called Adryan a cheater. As he spoke of how Loras didn’t land a single hit, and it seemed to only stroke Hill’s pride almost to being flustered with the words he considered complimentary. “I know how to wield a polearm on horseback, but I’ve never seen the point of using a blunted weapon,” Hill answered Jaime. “I suppose I can hit Loras all the same with a blunted end as a sharp end, but I’m using Torrent,” cast his eyes to Lenore, who did laugh then.

“Of course,” Torrent might be used by her, to fling arrows, but that horse wasn’t afraid of much. Loud sounds didn’t startle it. Lenore had taught it to jump fire, and would remind it once she was free. She didn’t need her horse startling under her in battle. It wasn’t trained to run down foes, but it wasn’t going to flinch from one, either.

Lenore rose from where she was, only to bend to hug the ‘brute’ around his shoulders, pulling him up a bit. She liked her cheater of a knight, after all. It was the only way to win in these games of war – to forgo the rules, and play dirty. “Be sure to aim for his helmet.”

Obviously against jousting rules. She let him go, and Hill just shook his head, but he wasn’t denying the possibility. Pretty boy had to learn what happened in war.

 

[peritwinkle]

It was good that they did not linger on the subject of Caireann, and instead moved to the one regarding the council. His mind worked at its best in the morning, and definitely would not prefer discussing such matters in the evening, after an exhausting day, but if his Lords and Ladies did not agree to it, then he would find a way to rest beforehand, although he was not one to sleep much. He liked watching the sun set and revive in the morning, counting stars and reading until late, though he supposed he would not be in the mood for such relishes if an alliance was not agreed upon.

"There is nothing more," he assured the King and stopped in his place. "I wished to address the... situation between us, that was all. I am looking forward to the meeting more than anything else."

Willas did not desire anything other than finding peace, and if that peace would be achieved by joining their rebellion, then he would be required to adapt. He was only glad that Catelyn Stark had come to discuss those terms first, before the Lannisters, therefore avoiding conflicts with his family. Margaery would have definitely preferred to join them – they were wealthier and stronger – whilst Lady Olenna would have simply agreed with her for the sake of the love she carried for her granddaughter. And Loras – he would have been happy on either side, as long as there was a golden knight available.

"I am also eager to see Lady Lannister whenever she pleases," Willas added with a small smirk curling his lips. "And if she is ready, you may send word for me... I don't suppose I will be anywhere other than in my own quarters for the rest of the day." He would find a way to occupy his time with reading or writing, if his thoughts weren't too clouded to do so. The Lord would turn to leave then, after having taken a small tour around the main hallway. Not particularly pleasurable, but at least he knew when the council would take place.

~***~

"You don't know how to joust, Hill, you just know which part of the polearm to use to break bones." Jaime was nothing but amused with the situation, now knowing what the bastard could do with his sword. "He lacks your experience, but you lack his discipline. The boy could pit you down if he took his time to analyse your movements properly." He had seem both of them fight, after all, and they were skilled, even if their methods were contrasting.

He turned to one side and closed his eyes once again, sighing at the display of affection coming from Lenore. She did not hug him like that, either; perhaps he would get more affection if he managed to beat the arse of a eighteen year old boy. Still, it was strange to see the two of them so close, and Jaime felt almost embarrassed to look. That, and the fast pacing had seeped languor into his bones. He wanted to rest then, for the past night had been too long and tiring, and he doubted he would get much sleep that night, either.

"Go get a room now," he mumbled to them as he slid his legs beneath a thin fur blanket. Nothing more than a tease, which would pehaps slide the thought of their own intimacies into Lenore's thoughts once again. If Hill left them be that evening, as well, they might get the chance to spend it together, and he might get his well deserved embrace. "She's hugged me before you, though," Jaime added, only to annoy Hill. He suspected it was still irritating for him to think that the Kingslayer had saved his Reyne.

And, in truth, he did not know why he had done it either; only knew that, in moments like these, he was reminded of how good of a choice it had been, even with the price of crushing his leg in the process. Only the Gods knew what would have happened to the Alliance and to them if they had lost Lenore Reyne... And her Fhost would have haunted him for too long, just like Rosalind did. Cersei, from time to time, appeared in his dreams as well, but only to be washed away by the sight of Lenore again. She never seemed to leave his mind.

 

[Lucyfer]

Nothing more. Robb was grateful for that, even if he was wary. He liked to have some things figured out beforehand. He had known where his own people had stood before entering most of his councils with them. He was not for sure where Willas stood, or what he would need to know. Nor was he sure about Olenna. He believed it would fall in his favor.

Yet, he knew how quickly that could change.

“I am glad to have spoken with you and addressed matters then, Lord Tyrell,” Robb answered him, pausing in their walk, “I will tell Lady Caireann of your wishes soon, I need to speak with Lady Reyne first,” again, honest. There would be a delay to him telling Lady Caireann, but only because this was necessary. He wanted this out of the way, to figure out where things would stand with her.

With a council in the morning, he did not have as much time as he’d like to contemplate if Lenore would be present or not. “If you need to see myself or anyone, please feel free to send a page here for them while you get acquainted with everything. We will work to accommodate your needs to see us, as we can,” Robb said, offered, “and I am sure the same is true of the Alliance,” though Willas would have to go see Lenore.

She was still confined.

“If you will excuse me, Lord Tyrell,” and he would leave his side then, if allowed.

~***~

Hill could not argue with Jaime. He didn’t know how to joust, but he knew how to win in a fight on a horse. Joust? Nah. He saw no point in jousting. Lenore and Hill both snickered at Jaime’s words of getting a room, though her cheeks did pinken a bit. Her thoughts did go where Jaime wanted them as she pulled away from Hill. “We have a room, you’re just in it,” Lenore told Jaime as she moved away from Hill, pacing a bit, stretching.

“Jaime, I’ve known her longer. She’s hugged me long before she knew you,” Hill said. If it was to be a competition, he was fairly certain he’d win. He’d known Lenore for far longer, after all. Knew her better than Jaime ever would.

Lenore sat on the bed, “Are you two going to argue over hugs now?” Touch exasperated, touch amused. She didn’t hug often. Tybalt probably had received the most from her, and even that wasn’t much. “I prefer hearing about Hill’s victories.”

“Not Jaime’s?” Hill joked, clearly playing along with this ‘who Lenore like better’ game.

“He doesn’t talk of his,” not much. He had complained of his crutches, complained of all he’d lost, but spoke little of past glories. “You’re the braggart.”

“Thank you,” Hill wouldn’t take it as an insult. That wasn’t how the game worked. What an odd pride they made...but they were a pride, all the same.

 

[peritwinkle]

"Is he talkative?"

"Not very."

"Kind?"

"I assume."

"And did he truly mention me?"

"Quite a few times..."

Mina's hands worked quickly to braid through the freshly brushed hair, but her mind was wandering away from the moment. She had never been a woman to dream of finding respite in the arms of a man, but did not refuse a good conversation when it was offered willingly. Still, there was a certain waver in Caireann's voice which she could not overlook, as much as she tried to appear unaffected by what she had seen.

The maiden picked up a small pin from the table and dug it into the curls to keep them secure at the back of her head. "He does look like a charming man," she sighed, "but cold... Colder than the rest of his kin." He was older than Margaery or Loras, after all, and almost seemed to follow the example of his grandmother, which was not truly a bad thing. "You would like him, I do believe that."

"I don't need to like him," Caireann quickly cut her off. Her heart was already beating too quickly in her chest; she wished to speak to him once, and be over with it all. Though, curiosity demanded otherwise, but for love as she carried for Robb, she knew giving him too much attention would worry him. "Robb thinks he wishes to marry me," and his assumptions were well founded.

"Men are jealous creatures," Mina let out a breath, securing Caireann's hair with another pin. "But I do not doubt the King's love for you, m'Lady. Regardless of the looks he might have given Lady Margaery."

No, she did not doubt it either, but feared that in his heart there was room for another. It was merely in his nature to love, and he had grown with that feeling surrounding him from the very beginning. He must have managed to steal the hearts of many in his younger years, before the war. And, given his skills, she could not have been the only one to love him.

~***~

Jaime accepted the battle of whom Lenore liked best, nothing less than amused by it. Still, his smile wavered as he noticed the slight tint to her pale cheeks, and he bit down on a rather indecent comment. "If you like Hill so much, then why don't you keep him confined?" Give him time off, and perhaps a new room where he could lounge around without clothes and womanly worries.

Though, jealousy was still there, burning through him at their affections. Hill indeed had known Lenore for far longer, even before she became a Reyne, but it was not him whom she'd slept with, not him whom she had been saved by. He strongly believed that he deserved at least more embraces than the norm.

"My battles are not nearly as interesting as Hill's," he sighed. "That's because I play by the rules... The bastard doesn't." No, he just won, and that perhaps demanded more respect than honour, for it was not discipline that won most fights. It was why the Wildlings were so feared in the North, and how they managed to raid villages so quickly - mercy was a weakness. Especially in front of little flowers.

There were steps outside their room that disturbed the silence, and Jaime knew that he would once again not be able to rest, even if he tried. Most likely, it was another Tyrell; he did not wish to get his hopes up by assuming Caireann would pay them another visit so soon, though even the sight of his angry daughter would be better than an overly talkative daisy.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Hill, do you like confinement?” Lenore asked, an innocent flutter of her eyes as Jaime brought it up. “Chains and such?” Teased, even as Hill rolled his eyes and pushed himself up on hearing the steps.

“No. I’m a lion,” he reminded, as if that should mean he shouldn’t. Lenore hated those things. So, too, did he – though he wouldn’t protest them as much as her. He was at least more patient. The steps were an unfamiliar set, but too heavy for a flower.

He opened the door before anyone knocked, and saw the King of the North there. ‘Oh.’ He stiffened, but stepped aside without introduction, motioning him in.

“Thank you,” Robb murmured before he stepped up and into the room. Lenore’s amusement did not fade, but it darkened noticeably as he came into the room. Ser Hill shut the door, and stepped away. “Lady Reyne.”

“Lord Stark. Come to speak to Ser Jaime about your indecent behavior with his niece?”

“No, I have come to speak with you,” he answered, “in regards to Karstark, your confinement, and the Council.” Robb answered, hoping to avoid that subject entirely. “Do you mind if Jaime is—”

“Yes, I mind,” Lenore answered, crossing one leg over the other. Robb had walked into the Lion’s Den. He might be king out there, but not here. Here, she was a Queen in her own right, and he would do well to remember that. “Talk, Lord Stark. You’ve been told to come here by others, haven’t you? They want me in the Council?” Her smirk was playful.

He took a breath, “Some think it would be prudent to have you involved, as this Alliance concerns you greatly, yes,” he answered, “And I have heeded their council to see if you truly understand the gravity of your actions and know that we are, in fact, an alliance and need to respect the boundaries of each other. I have allowed you to keep Jai—”

“Allowed?” Lenore rose then, pulling herself to her full height, back straight, head up, “You would not have him were it not for my arrow, some fool of yours would have slain him. Caireann would have been trampled or raped – though I wonder at the latter sometimes.”

“What are you implying?”

“That perhaps you are using your position of authority over her to get what you want, promising her false things to have your evening pleasures.” Lenore snapped right back, and saw the way it burned into Robb, the way his gaze flared in anger. “How many men made promises of love and loyalty? I wonder if your father made such promises to Jon’s mother.”

“Take it back.”

“No.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Caireann's heart already burnt with envy. She wanted to slide from beneath Mina's touch, but she stood her place and pursed her lips. "I am fragile in their eyes, Mina," the girl murmured. "I am not like her... Cunning. Witty. Books don't define one's intelligence when it comes to real life." She certainly had read many, but that did not mean she was down-to-earth.

"No, you are not," the maiden replied with a small simper. "You are better. He has known you for so much longer, Lady Caireann. He knows how strong and smart you are. You do not need the acceptance of a Tyrell to believe in your own strengths." She had been through enough during her childhood, and now that she was a woman, she would learn to prove herself worthy in their eyes. "It is why His Grace has chosen to forsake his vow for you..."

'His mistake.'

Caireann did not voice her concern, but it stung her throat when she thought of it. As much as she loved the idea of marrying him, there was still the risk of him compromising his safety for the sake of his feelings. A King ought to have a warm heart, but when he did not rule with his mind, then his decisions could just as easily bring him his doom.

When the braid was completed, Mina helped her up and they both sat on the couch. On a tray, she had set a large bowl of vegetable soup, seasoned with thyme and pepper, and another of honeyed yogurt. Caireann picked up the soup and started sipping at it, frowning at the steam that clouded her sight. "The only thing I do enjoy about this circumstance is the food," she spoke sincerely and quietly resumed her eating.

~***~

Stark.

Jaime sat up on the edge of the bed and dug his nails into the mattress. His arrival had certainly not been expected, and Lenore did not seem particularly pleased with it, in spite of her derisive smile. Her words were venomous from the very beginning, and as they seeped into the boy's bones, his voice appeared to be wavering for a moment. It changed then, turned firm, and Jaime knew it was not truly him speaking then.

It seemed that they wanted her to take part in the council again, just as he had presumed earlier. He would have thought the Reyne to be thankful, yet instead, she spoke with the same poison as before, and dared to bite. This once, her words diverted to Jaime's ears and prickled at his heart. "Lenore," he wanted to speak, but was taken aback by the exchange of remarks.

There was no love in what the boy did. No fear or decency, but simply a way to clear his own mind of his misery, and perhaps it was even what he had done, himself, when he had lain with Lenore. Jaime's jaw clenched tightly as he held himself pressed to the bed so he did not rise. He had unleashed his anger upon his daughter, when it had been the Stark whom he should have fought.

"Enough," he bit his lip, gaze averted to the ground. When it found Robb, it was already burning with rage. "You have dared to take my Caireann's innocence... You've stolen her heart and mind, tormented her and turned her against her own family," against himself. "But this is not why he is here," turning to Lenore then. "Let him speak."

Because he did not wish to burst in front of him. Did not wish to break his wrist against his skull if he dared to pursue the subject any further. Lenore had chosen to have him there, and so he would stay, but he would not keep his mouth shut when it came to Caireann. They could bite eachother as much as they wished, but what the boy had done could not be undone any longer.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Enough.

It was the word that Lenore used to still arguments as well, and it worked even on her. She breathed in as Jaime spoke, unleashing his anger but trying to direct things back to the topic, even as the wolf and the lion glared each other down, waiting for the other to look away. It would be Robb who turned his head, trying to gather his thoughts again – and Lenore took it as a quiet victory as he struggled.

“This is why they want me there,” she told him. “You can’t deal with sharp things.” Claws. Thorns. “Olenna will tear you to pieces.”

“Is that so? Have you already butchered our chances at an Alliance through your pride?” Robb snapped.

That smile remained, “No. Not mine,” she told him softly, dangerously, as if there was still a chance it could all break under him, and he’d be swallowed by the chasm of the broken alliance. “Olenna and I agree on much, and I quite like the Queen of Thorns. We have already spoken of who we would like on the Iron Throne.” Her face would not let her reveal if it was to Robb’s favor or not, try to find the answer as he did, blue eyes examining her.

It wasn’t there. She wasn’t saying, either. “Then perhaps I do not need you there if you have already seen to it that Queen is in agreement with things,” Robb said.

“Perhaps,” Lenore allowed. “I wonder how she’ll appreciate your answer as to why I’m not there, or why Lady Caireann roams so freely when she is a prisoner, same as Jaime. I’m sure Lord Vikary can tell her, of course. He is quite tactful.” Right now, his lack of tact played to her advantage.

“Do you want to be on the Council again, Lady Reyne?” Robb asked, “You are not acting like it.”

“I want you to admit that you are only here because you need me there.”

“I don’t need you there.”

“Then I wish you luck in sparring with Olenna. I am sure you’ll have much help in looking like a good and noble king, who fucks his prisoners and lets treasonous men live.”

He took a step forward. Hill’s hand moved to his sword’s hilt in a second, but it was unnecessary. Robb turned back around and went to the door, pulling it open, “YOU ARE LUCKY I LET YOU STAY IN A ROOM AND NOT A CELL!” And the door slammed shut as Robb’s rage spilled out.

Hill let the sword go and glared at Lenore. “Why?”

Well the answer was obvious. Lenore was too proud, and that play turned to a sullen anger that was the truth behind the play then. “Because he wasn’t honest.” Simply said. As if that justified what she’d just done to him. It was always the short, blunt answers, that were least liked. "We'll have the Alliance with or without me, and Robb will look an idiot to the Tyrells." She won either way. She had already spoken to Olenna.

 

[peritwinkle]

"If you keep eating, m'Lady, you will never maintain your sihouette," Mina chuckled as she curled up on the sofa by her side. She did not eat much, being raised without a variery of food to try, but enjoyed watching Caireann savour everything that she brought her. Each time she went into the kitchens, she made sure to choose only the pieces and dishes that looked and smelled the best, for the love she carred for the girl. She always did her best to make sure she found respite in the moments they dined together.

Caireann's cheeks flushed at her comment, and she quickly looked down at her figure. "Do you think I am voluptous?" She had always had a curvier shape, but never thought of herself as fat, unlike Lady Lollys. Though, when compared to Cersei side by side, they were nothing alike. The woman was taller and slimmer, with her bust quite a bit smaller than hers, but beautiful nonetheless. She envied her for her ability to keep her appearence untouched even after having given birth to three.

The maiden pushed the bowl up to Caireann's lips and let out a sigh. "No, you look wonderful, m'Lady. But you seem to have gained a pound or two..." Her eyes analysed her shapes and she placed a had on her upper arm to feel the flesh through the thin gown. "Hmm... have you bled this month?"

"Next week," Caireann frowned quickly and looked away, occupying her lips with the soup once again. Mina appeared to have the same assumptions in her head as Lady Reyne, which she did not wish to take into consideration then, though she did feel strange in the morning and before she went to bed at night. "But I still look pretty, don't I?" She had never thought of herself as pretty, but the more others around her confirmed it, the more confidence she gained. Robb seemed to like her shape, regardless.

"You are as pretty as always, Lady Lannister, you know that," Mina reassured her and slid her hand from her shoulder. "Or should I call you Lady Stark now?" The playful remark placed a smile on Caireann's lips as the woman spoke, and she placed the bowl of soup back on the table, in exchange for a cup of sweetened tea. She did not address it, but the thought lingered in her mind for a while longer, heart consumed by the ardent desire for it to turn from an innocent tease to reality.

~***~

Pride did not leave Lenore, even when threatened by the King in the North. She stood her place and fought him, in hopes of receiving the respect and treatment she thought she deserved. Only this time, she was not the only one to be lead by vanity, and Robb Stark bit with the same venom on his lips, without giving a second thought to his actions before the Reyne. Jaime maintained his silence and listened, heart threatened to break through his chest in frustration.

He could not speak, but as little as he liked the boy, it was Lenore who was in the wrong there. She was allowing her emotions to guide her instead of her rationality. A woman of wit and salt would have taken his moment of abashment as a victory and stepped over the subject; instead, she pursued it and chose to dig even deeper into the wound she had created. He could almost hear Robb's blood boiling in his veins as he struggled to bite down on derisive remarks, but instead, he disappeared outside the room with a shout that reverberated through the walls.

"You have made a mistake," Jaime spoke through his gritted teeth. When his fists relaxed, he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers, and his temples were throbbing painfully. "You should have proven him you were smarter. The boy needs you, but both of you are too blinded by your ignorance to see it." His voice raised slowly, but it remained steadfast and firm. She could not expect him to remain silent for too long when she had decided he could hear their conversation and subtly implied he could add his own comments, whether it was for his own sake or to irritate Robb even more.

He sat up then, stretching in his full height, to top over Lenore from a slight distance. "Wolf pride, lion pride, spoon pride... It is all the same, and never fluctuates, never ceases to consume you," and he did admit his own ignorance for what he had said to Caireann. "You could have so easily taken your place back in that council. This is not a way to maintain this Alliance." He did not wish to see her in a cell, alone and broken again. It was not how a lion ought to be; how she ought to be, as vile as she might have been that day.

Ghosts could crawl through walls, and she would find a way to escape and take her revenge on Robb if required. It was what Jaime feared she would do the most.

 

[Lucyfer]

The King of the North burned as if he was the King of the Summer Isles instead. The anger consumed him, and Lenore’s words came back to jab at him. Poison his mind with doubts, even of his own intentions. His mind felt muddled, and so his path took him towards Caireann’s room, as if she might be able to clear it.

Verify for him that his intentions were not impure.

Remind him of who he was.

At least in her presence he felt like himself. He could get his head cleared, though he wasn’t at all sure to first get rid of this consuming anger, this fire and energy that sought a release. Perhaps he should go spar first, but his legs never turned that way.

The guard at the door stepped away as Robb got there, one look from the King’s blue eyes moving him, and he pulled open the door without a knock, and slammed it right behind himself once he was in, eyes seeking Caireann and no other. He did not even notice Mina, his eyes just sought the only thing that could make him feel…happy, again.

“Caireann,” he spoke her name more like an order when his eyes found her at last, a pretty braid in her hair – yet his first thought on seeing it was how he wanted her hair flowing freely. How he wanted all of her, loosed before him, and nothing less than that.

~***~

Blood was on Lenore’s lips like poison. The taste of victory was bittersweet, as it was a loss as well. Robb wouldn’t give, and Lenore wouldn’t give, either. Vanity and pride bit into the leaders. Robb did not want her there – his Council did. Yet, he needed her. She wanted him to confess it, and he wouldn’t – so he would be taken down and insulted in the Council. They would have the Alliance, but both of their positions would be threatened by how it was made.

They were not showing a unified front.

Lenore did not care, though. Not at that moment, even if she knew the consequences of her actions, as she had known there would be consequences for what she did to Karstark. She endured. She did not like, but she endured.

Lenore turned as Jaime spoke, trying to restore sense to her head. He managed to stand tall in spite of his wounds, and so Lenore forgot them. Forgot the pressure on him, the pain, the weakness, everything in an instant that should let her be gentle to him and unafraid of him. “No?” Lenore knew he was right, it was not the way to maintain the Alliance, “And why should I take advice from someone who wants to see the Alliance broken apart and smashed by his father as to what I should do?”

Hill decided to ease towards the door. This was one of the moods he would have ignored in Lenore. Come back later, when she realized her mistake, or when she was at least more sensible – cooled off. If Jaime wanted to challenge her when she had tasted blood, though, he could certainly try.

Hill would give Jaime credit for one thing; he didn’t want to see Lenore die. In that respect, he could at least appreciate the man trying to give her advice that might keep her alive, and by default, keep all of them alive.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was the sound of heavy footstep that let Caireann know they would not be alone for much longer. Whether it was Robb, she could not tell, for it was too hastened and aggressive to belong to him. Mina heard it too then, and sat up from the comfort of the sofa to stand in front of Caireann if she did need to exit. A knock on the door was expected, yet it did not come, and it stead it opened without a warning to let the King in the North step inside.

Rage. His eyes burnt and his lips parted only to speak her name. When the door crashed close against the wall, Mina knew it was not a wise choice to be there, and so she tiptoed her way around the King, inclined her head and opened it again to slip out. In solitude, Caireann's heart started beating faster, and her blood rushed to her cheeks. "Robb," he answered his demand, though softly, in fear she might have done something to upset him.

She assumed his conversation with Willas had not ended as expected, or perhaps he had indeed managed to speak to Lady Reyne. Regardless, her feet lead her towards him, balancing in the flow of her dress, and she drew near enough to place a warm palm on his shoulder. "What happened, Robb? Talk to me." Her eyes sought through his to find a hint, but they were too clouded, glassy even, and the sight only managed to seep more worry into her heart. It was rare that she saw him angry, but this – this was nothing like him.

And in his gaze, there was something that terrified her, almost; in the way that it traced the outline of her body, analysed her frame and seemed to weigh her as if wondering which part to bite first. He was nothing less than a wolf in that moment, a predator, and Caireann tried her best to maintain her composure in front of him, even if her slight tremor disclosed her fear. Whatever it was, she would listen and would try to calm him down, soothe him as she always did when he was stirred.

~***~

Hill made the right choice to leave them, though Jaime did not appreciate solitude when it came to those moments. If there was something that kept Lenore back from acting her irrationality, it was the bastard. Still, his expression did not waver when he left, and his eyes fixated her with the same firmness, as if he were ready to jump away if she dared take out her claws. If she had unleashed her anger and frustration upon Robb, she could just as easily sacrifice him.

"I do not give a shit for your Alliance, Lenore," Jaime spoke bitterly, "but I do give a shit about you. You are nothing but a symbol, and you will fall as soon as this Alliance breaks. They are your only chance of defeating your enemy," even if Tywin was not his own. No, he was not pleased with the thought she might get her hands on him, but he did not wish to think of her alone again. Lions were not meant to be solitary; they died too slowly, too painfully, and she needed the rest of her pack to be able to survive.

The first step in avoiding death was acceptance.

When he finally breathed in, his heart skipped a beat, and he dared to draw closer to her. "The last thing I want is to know that I have tried to save you for nothing." Even then, as his broken leg throbbed under his weight, he chose to overlook it to prove his strength. "I despise Robb Stark for what he has done to my daughter, but you are no longer in the position to comment upon that. You need your freedom, otherwise you will drive both of us insane." He doubted he wouldn't have her locked up longer for her behaviour; she indeed should have been thankful for being released from the dungeon.

"Whatever you are trying to do, it is not in your favour. You are ruining everything you have built with your own hands for the sake of that pride you cannot lose." Jaime's fists were clenched again, nails digging into the flesh of his palm like blades. He wanted to hit something, to break a nose, but he resorted to using his words as weapons, whether she chose to listen or not. Perhaps she wouldn't, but he would have spoken his mind, and he knew he was right. She did, too, but her vanity shielded her from the truth once again.